Monday, February 18, 2013

Name Calling


Kids eat your memory and make you stupid, or at least stupider than you were pre-kids.

When I was a kid, there was nothing that enraged me more than a parent calling me by the wrong name. My dad would call me by my brother's name (I am a GIRL, for the record) or the dog's name.  The dog's name was the ultimate humiliation.

As a parent, I have done this to my own children.  You open your mouth, and stupid comes out.  You know which child is which.  You know which one is the dog. All of this does not matter when a glass of milk is free-falling onto the carpet.  You yell someone's name.

I have, as I believe I have mentioned, two boys.  They are about a foot in height and two and a half years in age apart.  They are easy to distinguish from each other. I always know who I mean.

I have solved the issue by rarely calling my kids by name.  In real life, not just the blogisphere, I call my youngest Tiny Pants.  He loves it.  He tells me he will always be my Tiny Pants, no matter how big he grows. He is slightly small for his age, and I sometimes think he is refusing to grow just so he can remain Tiny Pants.

I call my oldest, Big One.  He does not particularly care for it.  He has pointed out that Big One has two syllables, as does his proper name. He asserts that it would take no more effort to say his actual name.  He is right, in theory, but what he doesn't understand is that the wires in my brain that connect coherent thought with speech are shorted out when I see a glass of milk headed for the carpet. I revert to cave mama, "Big One! Make milk stop! No hit floor! NOW! Unga! Unga!"

Because I am very grown up and mature, when I am confronted I do the only possible thing I can.  I turn it around on him. I explain that if he and his brother both went to bed nicely and stayed in bed all night I wouldn't be so tired and I would be able to think more clearly.  I do realize that my brain has been so stupefied since pregnancy that this will not really help, but any chance I get to encourage them to sleep must be seized. And let's be honest, sleep isn't going to hurt.


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